


May Death Do Us Part (And Long After)

by cinnabelly



Category: One Direction
Genre: Fluff, M/M, i promise its not like they are monsters, okay the only thing pertaining to monsters inc is that the scaring powers the afterlife, so dont be put off by that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:44:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4428881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnabelly/pseuds/cinnabelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Harry felt so happy he might burst. Just to hell with it all, and explode into some sort of mass existence with the rest of the universe. He’s sure there is some way to do that. Maybe he’ll become a star."<br/>or, a ghost au where Harry and Louis are rival scarers with a complex relationship. Louis is (seemingly) insufferable and Harry is in love (alright, maybe it’s mutual, they’ve discussed it).</p>
            </blockquote>





	May Death Do Us Part (And Long After)

**Author's Note:**

> so i wrote this in about three hours (ask Destiny, I texted her the whole time with updates) and I apologize for any mistakes. you are welcome to come tell me to fix any if they bother you. I got the idea from tumblr late last night and couldn't control myself. (I took the idea of 'scarers' from Monsters Inc. I'm sorry). This super fluffy and self indulgent. I'm not sorry about that. I wrote this while taking a brief break from my end of the world!au so get excited for that!   
> follow me on tumblr @louserz for updates on that :') (or just swing by to say hi)   
> i would appreciate your kudos x

Harry supposes it could be worse. He could have an annoying ghost haunting the barn, but he has Niall, who is just sort of obnoxious at times. He could have a grumpy Scaring Assistant, but he has Liam. He could have an old, pompous woman as a scaring rival, but he has Louis Tomlinson. Who, though pompous, is super hot. So. Harry definitely could have it worse.  
Doesn’t stop him from complaining to Liam the lunch before his send off.   
They were in the cafeteria eating ham sandwiches, Harry moaning in a very ghostly manner and Liam not even pretending to act sympathetic. Harry bit into his sandwich, pausing his ramble. It’s not like ghosts really had to eat, but more like it was something most dead enjoyed and a way to pass the time. You didn’t feel full, or empty, but the mayo tasted damn good so.   
Harry popped a salt and vinegar crisp into his mouth. “Lee-yum,” Harry groans, and Liam barely looked up from his clipboard. He was reading over some sort of statistics, something to do with scaring records and scream energy blah blah blah. Boring stuff that Harry could never understand. Not like it was his job, as a Scarer. But it was Liam’s as Scaring Assistant.   
Liam steeples his hands, glancing up at Harry from under thick brows. He had mustard on the corner of his mouth, much in contrast to his air of superiority. Harry decided not to tell him.   
“Harry, you will be fine,” Liam told him for the hundredth time. “It’s such an easy job, you won’t be there a week. And Tomlinson is currently five points ahead so.” Liam shrugs. “You need the boost. Him and Zayn couldn’t stop bragging in the breakroom yesterday, when you were out kicking the vending machine or whatever you do to get free drinks. Would have rung their necks if. You know. They weren’t already dead.”   
“And you didn’t think Zayn was beautiful eye candy,” Harry pointed out. Liam gave him a withering glare that made Harry cackle.   
“Just for that comment,” Liam quipped, snagging a crisp from Harry’s bag. “I’m stealing one of these bad boys.” He popped it in his mouth, moaning extra ridiculous for Harry’s further punishment.   
“You are so annoying,” Harry sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Too late did he notice the presence to his left, only startling when there was a boyish lilt in his ear.   
“Afternoon gentlemen,” said Louis, pulling up a chair. Zayn was right behind him, his ever present shadow, with Niall bringing up the rear. He was sort of the glue that held the group as one, had brought the two rivaling teams together with his lone wolf gimmick. Really, he was just smart enough to be his own Scaring Assistant, something neither Harry or Louis had quite mastered. Harry wasn’t about ready to admit that he’d be friends with Zayn and Louis, even despite Niall’s presence, simply because he liked to get under Louis’ skin.   
“Afternoon, heathen,” Liam welcomed. He frowned as Louis pulled a pickle from his sandwich, shooting a look at Harry. Harry just smiled sweetly. Bloody Liam shouldn’t have taken his crisp if he wanted help. He got what was coming to him.   
“I love it when you talk dirty to me, bebs,” Louis said, and Niall laughed. Zayn was too busy pointedly not looking at Liam, and Liam was decidedly not noticing. It made Harry wonder what exactly had happened in that break room, or what had happened after. Liam had a tendency to turn his anger into sexual outbursts. Harry knew first hand from their first month of meeting. He’d never let Liam live it down.   
“I love when my mates get along,” Niall chirped happily, tucking into his own lunch. “Should be real interesting on his assignment, what with me in the barn and you and Harry next door neighbors.”   
Harry choked on the straw of his milkshake just as Louis let out an indignant squawk, which would have been funny, if Harry wasn’t so shocked.   
“Wait a minute,” Harry cut in. “You’re telling me that me that Louis is assigned to the neighbors house? Like, as in, he’s going to be next door.”   
“Try not to sound too thrilled, H, or I might think you were excited.” Louis’ sarcasm was punctuated by an eye-roll, prompting Zayn to break his silence.   
“So that means me and Liam will probably be working close together then.” Harry couldn’t tell if that was necessarily a good or bad thing; he was too busy watching Louis’ profile. He was freshly shaven, in a woolen jumper that covered his small hands, hair tousled and long, curling in the back. The fluorescent light above them hit him hard, making his sharp angles even more prominent, a halo shining around his head. It was laughable, really. Louis may be a ghost, be he was no angel.   
Harry had missed Liam’s response, but it had Zayn blushing and ears red, as well as Niall laughing and Louis sniggering. Must have been pretty good, but Harry didn’t want to admit he’d too been lost in staring at Louis to listen.   
“I hope you don’t plan on sabotaging my job,” Harry says, watching the way the corners of Louis’ mouth quirk up in a devilish smirk.   
“Oh, Harry,” Louis says, batting his eyelashes. “What a horrible thing to accuse me of, as i am such an honorable man of the dead.”   
Harry is so, so smitten.   
“Yeah,” he muttered instead of confessing his undying (how ironic) love. “You’re something alright.”   
Lunch flies by quickly, with Zayn and Louis whispering lowly, probably about strategy and Harry and Niall playing a riveting game of paper football. Liam taps away at his cell phone, probably talking to his mum. He had died before his parents, like all of them had, except Liam’s mum was the only one to have joined soon after. The doctors had said depression, but Harry knew it had really been a broken heart. Harry didn’t like to think about Liam’s dad.   
They were back on the scaring level by two, Liam fiddling with the machine until a door was chosen. Harry had only agreed to become a scarer when he was promised that it was a vital, important job. He didn’t so much care for scaring those who were still alive, especially children, even if it did send a thrill up his spine. The fear of the family was what kept his dead London alive, however, and he figured he’d have his chance to explain himself once they joined him in the After plane. So it wasn’t like he was the bad guy, really. It was just a job.   
He cracked his knuckles, tearing his eyes away from from Louis, who was buzzing around Zayn with restless energy. He had caught Harry’s eye twice, winking the first time and sticking out his tongue the second, widening his eyes.   
If Harry wasn’t already dead, he’d like to drown in them forever.   
“Alright,” Harry said, rubbing his hands together. “Talk to me.”   
“It’s so easy, I swear,” Liam promised, and there was his trusty clipboard once again. He took the pencil from behind his ear and began tapping along the page as he read.   
“First off, we have that they are a white suburban family.” Harry was already grinning. “They just moved to the house, with a small cornfield being the only thing separating them from their neighbors, Louis’ family. They have a dog, two kids, and just about the most stereotypical horror movie backstory around. Moving from the busy city to ‘start a new life’.”   
“Let me guess,” Harry interrupted, twisting his hair up into a bun as he spoke. “The dad has said on multiple occasions that this is their chance to ‘start over’. And one of the kids is a rebellious teenager who will complain about the lack of wifi service, which I totally get, but still.”   
Liam chokes on his laughter, hand covering his smile. “It’s so ridiculous, I know. But Louis is up by five, and this will get you an easy ten, so there you go. I chose something simple, something quick. You’ll be done in barely any time at all.”   
Harry clapped his hands together, looking around the scare room. Niall had already gone ahead, his station empty and barn door still docked. He must already be settling into a hayloft, or spooking the cows, or whatever it was he was doing. He wasn’t exactly the most serious or even scary of scarers, but his uncle owned the business, so he was kept on the payroll. Plus, he’s funny.   
Harry clips in his in-ear, the thing that Liam will talk to him through during his task. Liam will just let him know what’s going on in the house, give him suggestions, let him know how many points he’s earning based on the level of terror the family feels. Harry likes to get out on the bare minimum, usually.   
“Good luck, Harry Phantom,” Louis says when they are side-by-side, both facing their doors, Zayn and Liam waiting for them to enter.   
Harry smiles, heart fluttering when he glances over and sees Louis’ smirk melt into a genuine grin. As much as Louis is irritating, and loud, and sarcastic, he still makes Harry’s dead pulse quicken. Hypothetically of course.   
“Bet I’ll finish quicker than you,” Harry shoots back. Louis scoffs, brow arched.   
“In your curly-headed dreams.”   
Harry opens the door and steps inside, the last thing he hears being Louis’ tinkling laugh.   
*  
It sort of really sucks being a ghost on the Earth plane. Here, you really get a sense of just how not alive you actually are. Harry always has the urge to curl into himself, pull his jacket tighter around him, but he doesn’t feel either hot or cold. He can’t feel the heat pouring through the vent, or the wind brushing his cheek.   
The first time he crossed from the After plane to the Earth pane, Harry nearly suffocated. Or, really, he couldn’t have but it felt like he was. You can’t breathe on Earth, which makes sense because he has no use for it, but it’s a habit. Back home, you can breathe and feel as you please. Here, you can gasp for air and never get a proper lungful. It’s a hard pill to swallow, and one of the reasons Harry initially turned the job down. But here he is, barely a year later. It’s not so bad.   
It’s sort of fun, sometimes, once you get over the fact these are real people you’re terrifying for power supply that Liam picks up via his generators over in After. Harry tries not to think about it too much.   
It is, by far, the easiest job he’s had in a long time.   
He starts out small. The family is indeed very Christian, with crosses hanging in the entryway and a bible on the fireplace mantel. They work well enough to keep out restless demons, but Harry isn’t evil. He’s no saint either, but somewhere in the middle. Part of the most populous part of the dead. Just a soul.   
Harry begins by turning on the radio unexpectedly, flipping the switch and spinning the old dial until it falls on some old fifties pop station. The mother, Janet, jumps where she is making lunch over the stove. She mutters to herself, bustling over and turning it off. Harry flips it on once again, waltzing out of the room to the tune of Ray Charles as she sighs in frustration.   
“Robert!” she yells up the stairs, to where her husband is unpacking. She’s got her hands on her hips, face pinched. “The radio must be running low on battery, will you bring me the tub when you find it?”   
“Sure thing, dear,” Robert says in that tone of voice that really pisses Harry off. It’s the voice his own father used to use on his mum, before he jetted off. If you sound that exasperated every time your spouse so much as breathes, then why in the hell are you even together? Harry is very sensitive to that sort of energy, he’s been told.   
He finds the troublesome sixteen year old in his room, earbuds buried in his ear and some sort of movie on his laptop. Harry doesn’t bug him, not right away, just observes. The boy, Lucas, is watching a love story and it has nostalgia rushing over Harry in a wave. He remembered doing the same, then calling Gemma into his room to rant about love. He’d been a proper sap. He still was, though he rarely talked to Gemma about it. Only when he occasionally visited her dreams, he would guess. He hoped his sister still thought of him.   
He moved on from Lucas without bothering him, save for a soft chill. It could be blamed on the snow whirling outside, blanketing the field and covering the barn roof. Harry would sleep with Niall, he decided. It’s not like he could smell the pigs anyway. Were there even animals on his farm anymore? Probably not.   
The little girl saw Harry. It was true, babies and younger children were more in tune with the wavelength that ghosts rode. This girl, a strawberry blonde named Matilda, was very in touch with her spiritual side, it would seem. She glanced up from her tea set the moment Harry was in her doorway, and though she didn’t scream, she didn’t look exactly thrilled.   
“I knew you were here somewhere,” she said, almost sighing. She had her doll clutched to her chest, a ratty thing with on button-eye missing. Harry gives her a lopsided smile, pulling out his rubber band to let his curls fall to his shoulders. Liam always told him little kids liked him because he looked like their dream Disney character, and despite his assignment, he wanted to make Matilda comfortable. This was her new home.   
She watched him with open curiosity swimming in her brown eyes. “You’re very pretty.”   
Harry stepped into the room, giggling openly, which made her laugh as well. “As are you. I’m Harry.”   
“Matilda,” she said, holding out her hand and then thinking better of it. “You can’t shake hands can you? Because you’re my imaginary friend.”  
Harry nodded his head, taking in the room as he responded. “Yup, you got it right. I have some stuff I have to do,” he said, looking away from her open suitcase and pile of stuffed animals. “I’m not mean, remember that, yeah? No matter what happens.”   
Matilda looks a bit unsettled now, frowning, but bobs her tiny head. “Alright, Harry. You have a funny accent.”   
Harry smiles at that, leaving for the barn just as Robert comes down the hall to ask Matilda who she’s talking to. She answers “My new friend, Harry. He’s friendly, not mean, he told me”. So there’s, like, ninety-percent of Harry’s job done. He loves kids.   
He finds Niall in one of the old horse stables, book balanced on his knee and cell phone in his other hand. He seems to be transitioning between typing and reading, though Harry wonders who he’s texting sense they have yet to master cell reception between planes. Maybe Louis. The thought makes Harry warm, despite the fact that it is physically impossible.   
“Sup, Harry, how’s the fam.” Niall cocks his head back, leaning it against the wall. Harry shrugs, dropping down beside him, folding his legs up to his chest.   
“Robert seems kind of dickish,” Harry says, closing his eye and resting his head against Niall’s shoulder. “Janet, well. She’s a mum. Lucas reminds me of a younger version of myself, and Matilda could see and talk to me.”   
Niall sits up a bit straighter and Harry groans. It’s awfully exhausting being on the Earth plane, and traveling. He just wants to sleep all day and work on the spooking tonight.   
“Whoa, really? Damn, that’s never happened to me before.” He shakes his head. “Think I could try and play with her? Like, dolls or sommat.”   
Harry tries to get comfortable against Niall’s shoulder, finally snuggling down when Niall relaxes. He’s comfy when he’s pliant. “Yeah, go for it. I can earn those ten points on the others alone. I don’t think she’d be so easily scared of me. I don’t want her to be, anyway.”   
Niall pats his head, tone mocking. “Ah, yes, my little Casper the friendly ghost.”   
Harry swats his hand away, eyes screwed shut. “Twat. Let me sleep.”   
“Without seeing Louis first? He’ll be pissed.” Niall sounds faux outraged, annoyingly so, but Harry is too tired to go for a nipple twist. So he just settles for a soft grunt, drifting off before Niall can bug him further.   
Harry wakes up what feels like moments later, but what is hours, because night has fallen and the barn is hushed. Niall is asleep a few feet away, drooling onto the pages of his novel. Harry blinks away blearily, fishing his phone out of his pocket. There’s a text from Louis, just a bunch of skull emojis. He’s mad, but not mad enough to be properly pissed off so Harry just sends him ten kissing emojis. He’ll meet up with him later, after he actually gets some work done. They’ve never had jobs this close before and he’s determined to use that to his advantage.   
He sneaks into the house, and honestly, it’s a bit creepy. He’s the one haunting it, but it’s still fairly eerie. Harry is so absurd, sometimes he wants to punch himself in the face.   
He sets to work by turning on the living room TV, but when he does, the channel flips to a children’s cartoon. He frowns, searching quickly for the horror movie channel, or even some loud gospel, but the telly flips back to the singing cartoon lamb every time.  
Harry glances around- and sees it. The slight ripple in the air, and he reaches out and yanks on the back of Louis’ bomber jacket. Louis falls back into existence, cackling with delight, eyes crinkled.   
“Aw, H, confused is a cute look on you,” Louis teases, tugging at one of Harry’s strands of hair. Harry bats his hand away, trying to frown, but from the amusement dancing across Louis’ face, he can tell he’s not succeeding. He finally succumbs to the smile with a sigh.   
“You are so obnoxious, go scare your own damn house,” Harry groans and Louis groans.   
“Nooooo,” he whines, crossing his arms over his chest. “They’re an old couple who sleep like logs. Even the dog won’t move when I start screaming my own head off. He just rolls over, like I’m going to scratch his damn tummy.”   
Harry mimics his indignant stance, copying his pout. “Poor baby, what ever shall you do. Might I suggest not trying to sabotage my own job, hm?”   
Louis uncrosses his arms, blinking out of visibility and reappearing so close to Harry their noses bump. Harry jumps, startled, which makes Louis crack a smile. He’s a right shit, and Harry wants to grab the collar of his jacket and kiss him senseless.   
“What are you going to do about it?”   
Harry is about ready to brain himself against the wall, hands already halfway to the front of Louis’ coat when Lucas comes stumbling down the stairs clad in nothing but loose pajama pants. Liam’s voice is suddenly in Harry’s ear.   
“How about, less flirting, more working. If you’d been listening, you would have heard his bed creak. Could have dropped the vase or something, soon as he came downstairs.”   
Louis seems to be getting a similar lecture from Zayn because he rolls his eyes and puffs out his cheeks. “Alright, Zaynie, don’t get your underwear all in a bunch. I doubt Liam would like that.” Harry is sure Zayn is stumbling over his words now, flustered, but Louis does a good job of ignoring him as he looks back at Harry. “Meet me outside in twenty, yeah? I’ll go scare the old farts.”   
He’s gone before Harry can agree, but does he really have to? It’s Louis.   
So Harry follows Liam’s instructions, going through the motions while he tries not to feel. He does indeed shove a picture frame off the coffee table as Lucas shuts off the telly, the crash loud in the sudden darkness. Harry can sense Lucas’ heart rate pick up, but he is too proud to shout for help. He’s running up the stairs when Harry places a soft hand on his bare shoulder, shuddering, probably feeling Harry’s eyes on him as he scrambles back to his room. He’ll blame it on the night, on the too many scary movies, on the unfamiliar house.   
“One point,” Liam says, voice full and rich, nothing like over a phone at all. If harry closes his eyes, he can almost believe Liam is at his side, talking right into his ear. “I’ll leave you to it then. My guess is Louis is nearby.”   
The line clicks shut with a dull sense of being alone. Harry shakes off the feeling, and though he knows the snow can’t touch him, he pulls a beanie from his jacket pocket and pulls it down over his ears. It makes him feel better, a comfort. He’s been dead barely a year, Jesus, give him some time to adjust.   
Louis is indeed waiting for him, in the back of the pick-up truck. He pushes himself up onto his elbows when he senses Harry, his own beanie pulled low, and Harry wishes Louis was affected by the cold. He bets he looks beautiful with his cheeks rosy, eyelashes dusted with snowflakes.   
Louis is radiating in the moonlight, almost shimmering, smile so sweet Harry wonders if he’d be able to handle a Louis affected by the winter. He decides he wouldn’t and this is just some higher being watching out for his sanity. He heaves himself into the bed of the truck, settling in.   
“Hello, cheater,” Harry greets, elbow knocking Louis’.   
Louis bites back a smile, eyes turned skyward, so Harry follows. He’s watching the stars when Louis says, “Hey, H.”   
They lay in silence for a mere two moments when Louis breaks it, because he is never good at keeping quiet, always moving and speaking and being himself. Harry wonders if it’s exhausting, being Louis. Probably.   
“Why do you think Niall put himself on barn duty? He can’t be earning more than two points over the course of a week, what with the family probably never trudging out there.” He pauses. “Especially in the winter.”   
Harry shrugs, Louis’ fingers ghosting (ha) over his own. He’s thankful that they can feel other spirits, even on Earth, because he might go crazy if he couldn’t touch Louis. He’d become one of those crazy ghosts, the ones who run rampant and haunt insane asylums or abandoned prisons. He tells Louis just that, which makes him laugh, the sound just as soft as the snow falling around them.   
“Is that, so, huh?” Louis asks, tone light. “I’ll be honest, you’d be a lot less attractive to me after going mad. Though,” he pauses, sounding thoughtful. “I suppose you have the corkscrew curls and funny hats already. You could be the Mad Hatter. I’ll be the boy version of Alice, and we’ll go on many wonderful adventures.”   
Harry giggles, turns his nose into Louis’ neck. The hair escaping Louis’ knit cap tickles Harry’s cheek and he presses his lips to the junction between Louis’ ear and his jaw, making the other boy sigh.   
Louis, outwardly, looks twenty-two. Harry knows, though, that he has been dead for at least fifteen years. He doesn’t like to think about it.   
“You’re a menace, Styles,” Louis says after a beat. He’s always been overly fond of nicknames, Harry had found that out quickly. He’d been assualted with Harolds and Curlys and Hazs within the first few days of meeting Louis. He’d always been rather keen on pumpkin, though he’d never admit it.   
“But you love it.”   
Louis doesn’t even pause. “Yup. Always.”   
Harry glances up and over, expecting Louis to be looking at the sky, but he’s not. He’s staring down at Harry without shame, corner of his mouth tugged upward. “So it’s mutual?”   
Louis nods, eyes locked with Harry’s. “Uh-huh. We’ve discussed it.”   
Harry forces himself to look away, ignoring the curl of delight in his belly.   
“Cool.”   
“Cool.”   
Harry wakes up the next night, hours and hours later, and Louis is gone. But of course he is, he’s got a job, just like Harry. Harry can feel still feel his small body curled into his side, the boy’s arm thrown over his stomach. When Harry goes inside for a second night of scaring, it’s to find the entire home unpacked and a fresh plate of cookies on the counter, signed by a mysterious and unknown neighbor.   
He grins and steals one. If Louis keeps it up, Harry will never scare this family. But Harry has never been one to back down from a challenge.   
*  
Night four, and there’s a party. A ‘Welcome Home’ or ‘Moving in’ or maybe even a Christmas party, Harry isn’t sure. He just knows he can’t very well scare the pants off sixty guests, so he doesn’t even try. He just texts Louis and invites him over, and gets about twenty thumbs-up in response.   
He’s been improving. He’s moved onto flickering the lights, stomping up and down the stairs late at night and waking up the whole house. After, he sneaks into Matilda’s room and tells her it’s just his job, that he won’t hurt her or any of her family. She seems to trust him enough, nodding her head almost guiltily. She has yet to go into any further depth about Harry with her family, even when they prod her uneasily for information. She simply catches his eye and gives him a small smile.   
Niall had gone back to After to grab some more books, he claims, but Harry thinks it’s so that he can go get smashed. And grab some more books. Honestly, the barn is boring, Harry doesn’t blame him. He knows Niall just decided to tag along to make sure Harry and Louis got along.   
Harry and Louis have always had a special relationship. When they first met, it had been an easy friendship, shameless flirting. Then they had become scaring rivals, and the tension had built into a friendly competition. Louis would brag and poke fun at Harry, to rile him up, and Harry would push back. Soon, their sweet relationship has turned into mutual teasing and fun bickering. It had just recently started melting away back into a sugary sort of treat, though it only seemed that way when they were alone.   
Harry wanted an equal balance of both, to mock and tease as well as smile in public. At the same time. In front of friends. They had yet to kiss, though had come close on multiple occasions. Harry shoved the thought away, focusing on the party.   
The guests had started indoors but has quickly poured out into the vast backyard, despite the chill. A few men in hideous camouflage coats and hats set to work on a bonfire, coaxing the flames from dry wood and fighting against the damp chill. By the time the fire was lit, the children dancing around, red-nosed and asking about marshmallows, Louis has arrived.  
He had, like Harry, changed clothes though it was probably unnecessary. It’s not like they could stink, or the shirts could get dirty, but. Normalcy. Routine. Everyone needed that, even in the afterlife.   
He was in a lilac jumper, the sleeves rolled and bunched around his wrist, and it took Harry all of two seconds to realize it was his own. Liam must have sent it with Louis as a joke. All it did was make Harry’s chest feel tight.   
“Howdy partner,” Louis said when he sidled up to his side, tipping an imaginary hat. He looked fidgety, more so than usual. Harry nodded his head back.   
“‘Ello, Lou.” He bumped his hip into Louis’ eyes trained on the fire. “Nice jumper.”  
He felt Louis relax beside him, molding a bit into his side. The curve of his hip, bumping back against Harry’s and staying. “Thanks, mate. Think it’s one of my favorites, is new.”   
Harry bit his lip, nose scrunched. “Purple. Good color on you.”   
He felt Louis’ eyes on him but didn’t look back. “Ya think?”   
Harry nodded, dropping his voice to sound serious. “Oh, oh yes. Very good for you skin, really brings out your eyes- ouch!”   
Louis had reached over and flicked his nipple, shit-eating grin lighting up his face. He looked about ready to fire back, but something caught his eye and he glanced over. It was Matilda, watching them from where she stood surrounded by cousins. No one else seemed to see them, just her.   
Louis waved and she waved back. A boy maybe a year older than her, with fiery red hair, looked in their direction, frustration etched in the downward curve of his mouth. “Matty,” he scolded. “Stop talking to your fake imaginary friends and pay attention to the game.”   
Matilda shot him a look that could rival Zayn’s own, or even Liam when he felt particularly spirited. Louis let out a breathy giggle, watching.   
“She’s cute,” he said, toe nudging at the ground. He would have been shifting the snow if he focused his energy into it, but didn’t. “I can’t stand Anette and Rich. They don’t do anything but complain about being old, be old, and sleep.”   
Harry laughed, hand over his mouth. “Good thing you didn’t live long enough to be like that. Though you would make a cute old man.”   
Louis tapped his knuckle against Harry’s own. “I decline to agree or disagree.”   
“So did you really make my family cookies?”  
“Store bought. Or stolen. But I plead the fifth.”   
Fifteen minutes later they were taking over a log from a couple who had moved on to dance across the snow to some slow song, Louis almost reaching for a stick and a marshmallow.   
“Lou,” Harry warned and Louis paused. He sighed, retracting his hand, burying himself further into Harry’s side.  
“Yeah, right, sorry,” Louis huffed, wind causing his hair to flutter around his eyes. He must have used his energy, a bit of it, for effect. His eyes glittered with the light, face aglow from the climbing flames. “Though it would give them a right fright, wouldn’t it? Tale of the haunted s’more.”   
“They wouldn’t want s’more marshmallows, I reckon,” Harry joked, drawl slow, and laugh barking as Louis pulled a face.   
“You are one of the worst joke tellers, I reckon.” The tops of Louis’ knuckles were poking out from under his sleeve and Harry reached over, running the pads of his finger across them. Louis watched, and forced himself to let out a shuddering breath. It took energy, serious energy, to actually get in a breath. Louis must have wanted Harry to know how his touch felt to him, without saying it out right.   
Probably a bit tired now, Louis rested his cheek against Harry’s shoulder. They were hushed for a bit, watching the others talk and joke and play games. There were a few older couples dancing to the radio, a few children as well. The dog raced around, nose buried in the frost or begging for scraps of Hershey chocolate or a graham cracker.   
Harry started to drift off, his own cheek smushed into the top of Louis’ feathery hair, when the older boy shifted. Harry moved his head up, blinking slowly over at Louis. He was staring at the fire determinedly, like he was working out a particularly hard maths equation. Harry wondered what it was.   
“Harry?” Louis asked abruptly, eyes still on the fire. Harry hummed to show he was listening, wondering what time it was. “How come you haven’t kissed me yet.”   
Harry startled, sure that if his heart was beating, it would be hammering in his chest. He glanced over at Louis, trying to gauge if he was serious, but he was still engrossed in the flames. For a moment, Harry wondered if he’d just imagined it. Finally, Louis looked over at Harry, question still in his eyes. Harry licked his lips.   
“Um, I don’t know. I didn’t… Didn’t know-”   
“If I wanted you to?” Louis guessed, turning on the log so he was facing Harry, legs crossed. “Are you blind? And deaf?” He sounded somewhat incredulous.   
Harry’s brows knit. Now, his very being was insulted. How had they gone from possible kissing to Louis pushing Harry’s buttons?   
“Is this your way of taking it back? Making fun of me so I don’t want to kiss you?” Harry scooted closer despite his words, staring at Louis’ lips. They were a soft pink, and when Louis caught him staring, his tongue darted out to run across them, almost without meaning to.   
“Is it working?”   
Harry reached out slowly, running his thumb across Louis’ slightly fuller bottom lip. His eyes fluttered shut, hooded.   
“No.”   
“Good.”   
Harry leaned down as Louis surged up, their lips meeting hungrily. It was surprisingly tender, for the passion behind it, the wait and longing. All the time spent decidedly not kissing. With Harry’s fingers slowly sliding into Louis’ hair, he wondered why he’d ever spent any time in his life (alive or dead) not kissing Louis.   
Louis allowed Harry to taste, his scent clouding Harry’s head. His lips were soft, tongue sugary, probably from sneaking a marshmallow when no one was looking. His mouth was warm, strands of hair silky under Harry’s lithe fingers. He moaned softly into Harry’s open mouth when Harry tugged, bringing them closer together.   
He could feel Louis’ fingers twisting in the front of his t-shirt, keeping him from pulling away. Like there was a fat chance of that happening.   
Harry found Louis’ hand under the sleeve of his (Harry’s, actually) sweater, where it was pooling around palm, tangling their fingers. Louis’ thumb brushed across the back of his hand, dull nail digging into his skin.   
Harry had never felt so alive in all his dead life.   
There was a shout that forced Harry and Louis to finally break apart, though they stayed close, eyes screwed shut and foreheads touching. Harry leaned forward slightly, nose bumping Louis’ own and making him smile, though he couldn’t see. When Harry finally forced himself to look, pulling back, Louis caught his hand and dropped a small kiss to his palm.   
“Thanks, H,” Louis whispered, voice raspy. His hair was slightly disheveled from Harry’s fingers, cheeks tinted pink. Harry’s own voice was hoarse when he spoke, and he had to clear his throat.  
“Was my pleasure, sir.” Louis shoved his shoulder with a free hand, unwilling to let go just yet.   
They finally realized what the shouting had been caused by when everyone’s frantic whispers hit their ears.   
“That was the strangest thing,” a middle-aged woman said, sounding baffled. Her hair was twisted up into a ponytail, pieces floating around to frame her face.   
“Must have been shapes caused by the fire, Mel,” a man, her husband maybe, said from his seat beside her. “Honestly, it’s dark out and you’ve been listening to the kids tell ghost stories.”   
“I saw it too,” a voice spoke up and that shot everyone into a heated debate. Harry and Louis shared a look before bursting into a fit of hysterics. The heated energy of their kiss must have winked them briefly into existing, probably startling the whole party.   
“Dear Christ,” Louis laughed, nose scrunched and small frame shaking. The jumper fell over one shoulder and he yanked it back up. “I would have paid to see their faces. I can’t believe we’ve accidentally haunted the party by making out.”  
“That was some pretty tame making out, if that’s what you’re going to call it,” Harry pointed out, but nodded his agreement. “Personally, I much prefer to be apart of that particular haunting, but seeing their faces would have been pretty brilliant.”   
Lucas was silent, though he kept casting short looks in their direction, keeping quiet. Matilda caught Harry’s eye and shook her head, though she looked fairly delighted. She gave Louis a point, lips quirked upward. She liked Louis, Harry gathered. He dipped his head back. He liked Louis too.   
Louis stayed by his side for another two hours, making light banter and silly jokes. At one point he danced around the lawn with Matilda, much to the adults amusement. It was fairly silly, Harry figured, watching her dance with seemingly nothing. But Louis wasn’t nothing, not to Harry. He was everything.   
When Louis said he had to go, that he had been lacking in his scaring the past two nights, Harry offered to walk him home. Louis didn’t point out that home was barely two minutes away, and he could easily wink himself into existence there. He just stood up and offered his hand to Harry, who took it.   
Doctors, he figured, shouldn’t use those electric paddles to bring patients back to life. They should use the the addicting glint of Louis’ eyes when he is truly content, to make them want to live again.   
They walk in comfortable silence, Louis’ fingers curled around two of Harry’s own, swinging their arms obnoxiously. Harry watches Louis as he bounces along, on the sole of his feet, nodding his head to music only he can hear. Someday, Harry would like to listen too.  
They reach the old couple’s peeling home far too quickly. It looks one slightly windy day away from being blown over, all the windows dark, a cat lazing in front of the screen door. Louis stops, staring at the house with undisguised contempt.  
“Completely horrid, innit?”   
Harry makes a noise of affirmation low in his throat. “Atrocious.”   
“Appalling.”   
“Dreadful.”   
“Completely god awful.”   
“That’s multiple words.”   
“Kiss?”   
“Better.”   
*  
It’s been over a week and Harry should be done, according to Liam. He’d cracked the night before, finally turning off his inner moral conscious. It’s not like he was going to hurt them, or anything. He made sure to pick a night Matilda was at a slumber party. He didn’t want to frighten her.   
He’d done his usual, the lights going in and out, radio blasting at odd hours. He moved on to creaking open doors, rattling windows, whispering lowly into Robert’s ear. He maybe enjoyed watching him squirm a bit too much. He still wasn’t too fond of him.   
The kicker was when Harry used most of his energy to turn on some of Matilda’s electronic toys, winding them up and setting them all tromping down the hall and past the other’s rooms. There’s nothing quite as terrifying as a marching teddy bear, or a rogue Thomas the Train, all going haywire to the backdrop of some ghastly children’s tune.   
He left the house and headed to the barn when Lucas started screaming, the light pouring from the windows illuminating the short walk.   
“Job well done, Harry,” Niall said in lieu of greeting, hunkered down in his usual spot. “They are probably still pretty spooked from earlier when they were in here cleaning out. I gave them right scare, obviously.”   
Harry hopped up onto the gate of one of the stables, swinging his legs. “Obviously.” His heels knocked against the rotting wood. “Is Louis back home then?”  
Niall looked up from his reading, as if trying to decide if Harry was serious. When Harry just stared back levelly, blankly, he gave in.   
“So Liam didn’t tell you? Thought he’d want to brag. Louis has barely collected six points as of now. Has been traveling back and forth frequently, not always scaring.”   
Harry is surprised. Usually, Louis is always racing, trying to beat even his old time. He should have gone home days ago. He also rarely travels back and forth, as it takes time to recover from each trip. Something’s up.  
“Something’s bothering him,” Harry says out loud, sliding off the gate. “I’m going to go talk to him. Is he here?”  
Niall nods his head. “Last I heard, yeah.”   
Harry shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked, head bent. He didn’t feel like winking into the old couple’s home, enjoyed at least pretending to feel the crisp cold nipping at his exposed skin. He trudged over the trampled corn, all dead and iced over. It would look lively and colorful in the summer and fall, but Harry wouldn’t be around for that. Maybe a few months from now, he’d check back in with Matilda to say hi. Then he’d play hide-and-seek with her in the stalks.   
Louis wasn’t anywhere in the house, or in the immediate vicinity, Harry discovered after some shouting and snooping. The cat watched him with obvious distaste, but the dog barely glanced at him. The old man must have been up in bed, for the wife was sitting in the sitting room, smoking. Her hands were spotted and gnarled, a permanent scowl fixated on her face. Harry doubted she had grandchildren she cared for.   
Louis loved kids. Harry could tell why he would hate this place. So why was he spending more time here than need be?   
He found Louis in a clearing behind the small wood, sitting on the bank of the river, staring into the thin ice. Louis didn’t turn when Harry sat down beside him, though he did speak.   
“Fancy seeing you. Come here often?”   
Harry stretched out his legs, heel resting on the frozen surface of the water. “Only when I see pretty young men in distress.”   
Louis’ eyes shot to the heavens, but he looked positively delighted. It took everything in Harry’s power not to trace a finger lightly over the sharp jut of his cheekbone, where his features look most angelic. His tiny, pointed teeth worried at his bottom lip, small fingers worrying at the hem of his coat. Louis may be a mere two inches shorter than Harry himself, but everything about him was wonderfully little.   
“‘m not in distress, I’m thinking.” Louis tore his gaze from the bank to look up at Harry. “You should try it sometime. Absolutely riveting.”   
Harry didn’t bother with a comeback, stooping down for a chaste press of his lips to Louis’. It was a barely there gesture, but Harry could have lit the world on fire from that small spark of heat. The so real heat in an otherwise numb way of living.   
“Let’s go skating.”   
Astoundingly, it was Harry who made the suggestion, not Louis, who just choked on an rasping laugh. “You serious?”   
“What?” Harry asked, clamoring to his feet. “It’s not like we could fall in.”   
So that’s how Harry ended up sliding across the fine ice, Louis clutching his hands in his own mitten-clad ones. Louis’ laugh was so open, so loud, so unafraid as he spun them, twirling. They stumbled a few times, on wobbly knees, knocking together. Finally, they found a rhythm, and Harry began circling his hand, spinning Louis until his eyes were wet from laughter-induced tears.   
Louis fell against Harry’s chest, laughing, and Harry felt so happy he might burst. Just to hell with it all, and explode into some sort of mass existence with the rest of the universe. He’s sure there is someway to do that. Maybe he’ll become a star.   
Louis’ lips were suddenly on his own, working his mouth open, and Harry compiled easily. Louis pulled back abruptly, fingers still clutching the lapels of his pea coat.   
“Fuck, is this alright, I didn’t-” Harry swooped down to cut him off with his bruising kiss, the dark December nightsky above them seemingly too vast. Harry needed to block it out, by kissing Louis senseless. There you go, perfect solution.   
Louis wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, lifting up onto his toes slightly. His nose brushed Harry’s cheek, flavor enticing. This time, he tasted more like himself, but in a way almost better. Okay, maybe completely better. Harry decided to shut himself up and kiss Louis harder, to make up for the lack of airflow.   
“Jesus, you’re teeth are sharp,” Harry hissed when Louis nipped at him, causing Louis to bunch his face up and giggle.   
“My canines,” Louis said, in explanation. “They’re like a bloody vampire’s.”   
They glided back over to the edge of the pond, trading soft kisses along the way, falling over each other to lay down onto the damp ground. This was one thing Harry was grateful for. He probably couldn’t handle more than a few moments in the frigid temp, had he been able to feel it. The winter made a beautiful backdrop, though. He wished they had Christmas music.   
Harry waited all of ten minutes, legs entwined with Louis’ and eyes on the moon, before finally asking the question he had come to ask in the first place. “Lou?” His tone was shamefully subdued.   
Louis’ looked up at Harry through his lashes. “Yeah?”   
“Why are you still here.”  
Louis got the gist of the question and he screwed up his lips, twisting them into a frown. He was silent for a few beats before seeming to give in.   
“If I am being completely honest,” Louis began, and Harry interrupted.   
“You are.”   
Louis bopped his nose to get him to shut up. It worked. “Alright, Curly, let me get a word in, Jesus. As I was saying…” He heaved sigh, shoulders dropping. “I like it here. I mean, not really. I hate the family. But I like how we are here. How we’re… nice. How we taunt each other, yes, but it’s… nice. Not for a show, you know?”  
Harry can’t actually believe this. Louis is just about the most absurd human being. “You…” He paused, and couldn’t help the faint titter of laughter that bubbles past his lips. It draws Louis face into a pout. “You want to stay here so we can be nice to each other? Who says we can’t be nice to each other back home!”  
Louis shrugs, looking momentarily embarrassed. “I don’t know, um, society? God, that sounds horrific. I mean, like. Everyone expects us to be, like, at each others throats. And I do want to, trust me, you have a very nice throat.” Harry shoves his shoulder, louis falling down from his elbow onto his forearm, mischief alight in his eyes.   
“Fuck everyone else,” Harry says. “This is how we started out, until everyone got into our heads that we had to be… enemies. Like, even if it’s friendly. Not without affection. Why can’t we be both?”  
Louis brushes his fringe from his forehead, swooping it over out of his way. His expression looks so calm, though like he’s had a revelation. Harry doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Louis so at ease. He wonders if he’s done that. Probably. Obviously.   
“So…” His fingers trace the underside of Harry’s jaw, bumping over the slight stubble. Harry can’t grow facial hair for shit. “You want this. Like, when we go back. You want… me?”   
Harry can’t believe that’s even a question.   
“Louis,” he starts, and though he’s trying to sound serious for effect, it comes out all too truthful “you have my unbeating heart.”   
And for a moment, with Louis’ lips on his own, Harry can almost feel a pulse.


End file.
